


Almost

by Mireille



Series: Tongue Tied and Twisted [2]
Category: Smallville
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-11-23
Updated: 2001-11-23
Packaged: 2019-03-23 02:38:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13777908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mireille/pseuds/Mireille
Summary: Given time and patience, Lex can do anything.





	Almost

If he'd told his father (and if his father hadn't dismissed it as he did most things Lex had said to him over the years, or used it as a springboard for another lecture on Lex's Duty As A Luthor), he probably would have been treated to an exposition on how tediously  _theatrical_  it was, as a harbinger of life-altering events, to find a half-dressed teenaged boy crucified in a cornfield. Lionel Luthor disapproved of theatricality in everyone but himself -- in his case, of course, it was called "maintaining an appropriate public image." He particularly disapproved of any hint of theatricality (or anything else that suggested independent thought) in his only son.

Twelve years ago, the boy -- he'd seemed a grown man to nine-year-old Lex, but he couldn't have been more than sixteen at the outside -- had begged him for help. He'd barely had time to think,  _Help you? If I could help anyone, I'd help myself..._  before the world had exploded. And behold, when he'd woken up in the hospital, he'd discovered that a whole new chapter of his life had begun: Lex Luthor, Disappointment to His Father *and* Bald Freak. He'd spent his first nine years convinced that if he could just be brave enough, tough enough,  _impressive_  enough, his father would love him. And when he woke up, he'd been sure that he'd done it. He hadn't cried. The sky had fallen right over his head, and he hadn't cried.

Then his father had looked down at him and said only, "Next time, don't go wandering off," and walked out of the room.

 _Then_  he'd cried. But he wasn't afraid to fly anymore. He wasn't afraid of  _anything_  any more. He'd lived through the sky falling. What else could happen to him?

And now -- Clark. Stripped half-naked, tied up in the same insane hick-town ritual (was it supposed to make the corn grow? Or was there simply not enough to do on a Saturday night in Smallville?) and left half-dead. Maybe not half-dead; he'd recovered quickly enough. But he'd looked it; Lex had been about to reach for his cell phone and call 911 when Clark had somehow recovered.

Clark. He looked like an ad for "100% All-American Innocent Farm Boy," all dark hair and impossibly wide eyes, broad shoulders hunched to make himself seem smaller--still trying to look like a boy, even though his body was obviously a man's--and even when he  _knew_  how much his father disliked Lex's, how much his father wanted  _him_  to dislike  _Lex_...still friendly. Still giving Lex that shy, hopeful smile, still unwilling to sever the connection that had been formed between them when Clark had pulled him out of the water. Still giving Lex that odd look that combined innocence and deeply-buried--but still there, Lex would stake his father's fortune on it--heat.

He knew what Clark Kent tasted like, salt-sweet under the mud-and-algae flavor of river water. And he wondered if Clark would still be as trusting if he knew that Lex was savoring that memory. There were things he could show Clark... He knew at least three bars in Metropolis where Clark's aw-shucks good looks would make him an instant success--and one where he could make a small fortune re-enacting that scene in the field twice a night for a suitably appreciative audience, if he were so inclined. There were things he could show Clark right here in Smallville, too, in the cab of the pickup Clark had reluctantly returned, or in one (or all) of the bedrooms at the Manor. Or in the rich black earth between the rows of corn.

He wondered how long that delicious innocence would last, once he'd shown Clark the alternative. It'd almost be a shame to spoil it.

Almost.

What  _would_  be a shame would be to ignore it, to work himself back into his father's good graces and out of Smallville before he'd managed to convince Clark that there was more to life than high school and what his father said. That there was more to  _Lex_  than what his father-- anyone's father--said.  _He brought me back from the dead. It's the least I can do._

There would be reluctance at first; no one as impossibly Midwest- wholesome as Clark could have grown up without learning, somehow, that there was supposed to be something wrong with what Lex would ask of him. But the boy liked him, Lex knew; liked him and, for some reason, trusted him, almost looked up to him. Given time and patience, he'd be able to convince Clark that the only thing "wrong" with what he wanted- -what they both wanted, he was sure of it--was the way some people ( _don't say "your parents," Lex, let him figure that out on his own_ ) couldn't see beyond their own insular biases.

Given time and patience, the hesitance would fade, and Clark would accept--welcome--the pleasure that Lex could give him. He'd want to keep it a secret, of course, but Lex was no stranger to secrets. It might even be better that way. Then Clark would be his, only his, and no one--not his father, not Clark's father, not God almighty--could intervene.

Given time and patience, he'd be able to convince Clark of  _anything._  And with sufficient motivation, Lex Luthor had plenty of both.

He was unsurprised when he realized he'd driven to the Kent place; with the tenor his thoughts had been taking, where else would he go? Clark was outside, sitting on the front steps with a textbook propped on his knees; it seemed only natural that Lex would stop.

"What are you studying?" he asked almost as soon as he was out of the car, hoping to startle Clark. Wanting to see what surprise would look like in those enormous eyes.

Clark, however, didn't seem startled. "English lit," he said, closing the book. "And I'm sick of it."

He couldn't have planned a better opening. "Then come for a ride instead."

Clark glanced back at the house; Lex assumed he was weighing the lecture he'd get from his father when he got home against the joys of playing hooky and -- he hoped -- a chance to spend time with Lex. Then he set the book down. "Where are we going?" he asked.

Hadn't anyone ever told him about getting into cars with strange men? The trusting smile almost weakened Lex's resolve; this was going to be too easy. Not only would he prefer a challenge, but he almost felt guilty at taking advantage of Clark's naivete.

Almost.

Lex stretched out a hand to help Clark to his feet. "Come and see."

**Author's Note:**

> [me on tumblr](https://mireille719.tumblr.com)


End file.
